


I Beg Of You Now

by KelpietheThundergod



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel & Claire Novak Friendship, Cat allergy, Dean & Claire Novak Friendship, Dean & Donna Hanscum Friendship, Dean & Jody Mills Friendship, Dean loves cooking, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff, Flustered Dean, Happy Ending, Human Castiel, Hurt Dean, Implied Dean in panties, Insecure Dean, Light Angst, Light Dean whump, M/M, Nervous Castiel, Nervous Dean, Post-Season/Series 11, Schmoop, Slight Canon Divergence, Slight Self-Feminization, Touch-Starved Dean, Unsubtle hints of Submissive/Bottom Dean, dean thinks too much, recently established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 22:06:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8119180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelpietheThundergod/pseuds/KelpietheThundergod
Summary: Dean was never able to give Sam the birthday parties he wanted when they were kids, and he can't even remember if he was ever invited to somebody else's. Probably not.He's got no idea what to expect.That's why he's secretly relieved when Jody asks if he can help her out in the kitchen. Dean loves cooking, and a kitchen is a place he knows his way around, even when it's not his own. Jody had sounded almost comically grateful when he said yes immediately, but other than that she doesn't seem to think the whole thing is such a big deal. But for Dean, it is. Birthday parties are a thing normal people do, and Dean isn't normal people. He sucks at those things. He doesn't want to mess it up for Claire.So, Dean's kind of nervous.Cas, though, Cas is worse.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thefuckingwarship (pirrofarfalla)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirrofarfalla/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for my best friend [Lexa](http://denimwrappednightmare.tumblr.com/) :) 
> 
> My beta for this was the wonderful [Jems](http://onceuponadestiel.tumblr.com/) . She's also my DCBB artist this year, and this fic wouldn't be what it is without her. She's a sweetheart and I don't deserve her. All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> I also need to thank my dear friend [](http://androbeaurepaire.tumblr.com/)[Andro](url) for her endless encouragement and for basically holding my hand while I was writing this.
> 
> This time I didn't put my own poetry at the beginning of the story but lyrics from [Stevie Nicks' "Sable On Blond"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ALKNrmncCRA) , because that's pretty much all I listened to while writing this and it inspired me. 
> 
> This fic takes place post Season 11 and is slightly canon divergent in that Sam didn't get kidnapped and Mary never came back. Please leave me a comment if you enjoyed reading!

 

 

 

 _I beg of you now_  
_what was it that fell_  
_was it_  
  
_one fallen leaf_  
_like the feather that it was_  
_was it freedom by choice_  
_or baby, was it love?_

 

 

Cas is riding shotgun and the wrapping of Claire's present in his lap makes that crumbly paper sound every time he shifts slightly in his seat. The wrapping has a flowery pattern, and even though Dean has the feeling Claire prefers plain, monochrome things, he didn't have the heart to tell Cas that. Cas also applied the wrapping kind of clumsily, because he insisted on doing it himself rather than letting the guy at the shop do it. But hey, it's gonna get ripped off eventually anyway, right?

That might happen sooner rather than later though, if Cas doesn't stop his nervous fingers from worrying the edges loose.

Dean lets the car behind overtake them—fucking aggressive Audi drivers always crowding in too close to his Baby—and then takes his eyes off the road for a brief moment to throw a look at Cas.

“Cas, just set the thing down before you rip a hole in it.”

Dean reaches over and tugs Cas' hand away from where he's been fussing at a glue strip holding the wrapping together over the photo album he got for Claire.

Cas starts at Dean's touch and looks with worry at the present in his lap.

“Oh,” he rumbles, “Thank you, Dean.”

He tugs his fingers from Dean's grasp and sets the present carefully down in the footrest. Then he presses his hands flat over his thighs and looks out the window again.

Dean let his hand rest on the bench seat between them after Cas withdrew from his grip, but now he puts it back on the steering wheel.

He'd kind of, maybe, been hoping Cas might take Dean's hand in his. Maybe play with his fingers to keep his nervousness down. But hey, no big deal. Maybe Cas' hands are sweaty, and holding Dean's hand would have just made that worse. Maybe Cas isn't a hand-holding kind of guy.

Dean can admit there's also a certain amount of selfishness at play on his part, because Cas' nervousness in turn makes Dean nervous. Or rather, it reminds him of why he _should_ be nervous, whatever.

When Jody called to say she wanted to throw a birthday party for Claire, Dean hadn't expected to be invited. Sure, they've been over a couple times—mostly because Cas wanted to visit Claire and Jody hadn't known Cas at all—so he'd understand Cas being invited, but him and Sam? He'd have expected Claire to want to celebrate with Jody and Alex and the friends she's managed to make over the past two years. Was she even okay with them coming?

Jody had sighed into the receiver then. “I wouldn't do anything she doesn't want, but… Honestly? She's been kind of troubled lately. I don't have anything against her spending time with her friends most of the day. I just think it might be good for her to also have people here she doesn't have to pretend around, you know?”

Dean definitely gets that. It's just that he was never able to give Sam the birthday parties he wanted when they were kids, and he can't even remember if he was ever invited to somebody else's. Probably not.

He's got no idea what to expect.

That's why he's secretly relieved when Jody asks if he can help her out in the kitchen. Dean _loves_ cooking, and a kitchen is a place he knows his way around, even when it's not his own. Jody had sounded almost comically grateful when he said yes immediately, but other than that she doesn't seem to think the whole thing is such a big deal. But for Dean, it is. Birthday parties are a thing normal people do, and Dean isn't normal people. He sucks at those things. He doesn't want to mess it up for Claire.

So, Dean's kind of nervous.

Cas, though, Cas is worse.

He'd been worrying about what to give Claire for her birthday for weeks before Jody called, and he's even more worried about messing anything up than Dean is. Dean doesn't really think he's got reason to—his relationship with Claire has gotten a lot more relaxed, and though Jody was a bit taken aback by him at first, she clearly likes Cas despite his social awkwardness. She's probably only wondering how such a nice and polite guy can be best friends with Dean.

“Dude, do we _have_ to listen to that?”

Sam has been texting in the backseat for about half an hour now—probably with Eileen; probably about how Dean is gross and gets on his nerves because he's had a pop music station on low for an hour already.

Dean doesn't like _everything_ that's on there, but some stuff is catchy, okay? And Cas likes it as well. But Dean doesn't feel like listening to Sam's bitching for the next three hundred miles, so he rolls his eyes as dramatically as possible, and reaches over to change the station. For now. The news report is just starting anyway, and Dean would rather not hear about suspicious cattle deaths and feel guilty for not investigating them immediately.

Not that he's all that much up to punching uglies right now.

Two days ago, a shifter case that had started out easy went side-ways on them. It's not even that Dean doesn't get why, it's that he does. Even among monsters, shifters are basically outcasts. It was a stupid move, and he knew that, but Dean couldn't help trying to reason with the shifter; even though she was clearly beyond listening to reason. He was thrown into a wall for his trouble, and his brother had to jump in and stab her through the heart with a silver knife.

The swelling is gone but one of Dean's eyes is still pretty black, and he's sporting two broken ribs on his right side.

He's reminded of that when he leans back in his seat and doesn't manage to suppress a low grunt of pain at the twinge.

“Are you okay?”

When he glances at him, Dean sees that Cas is staring at him in concern. Dean's had worse, and Cas _knows_ that Dean's had worse. Still, it's kind of—nice, having someone fret over him like this. Definitely not something Dean is used to, and so he never knows how to react to it.

What gives Dean pause is Cas starting to reach for Dean's shoulder, and then giving up halfway there.

Dean decides it’s best to pretend he hadn't noticed. He licks his lips, forcing his eyes back on the road.

“I'm good.”

He can feel Cas staring at him a moment longer, and then there's the faint whisper of clothing as he shifts to look out the window again.

Dean exhales silently and calculates in his head how much farther they can get until they need to stop for gas.

>

Dean waves Cas off when he offers to get in the back so Dean can ride shotgun after he switches off with Sam. Usually Dean would insist on driving the bulk of the way himself, but today it just doesn't make sense. He didn't sleep well and he's distracted and he doesn't want to arrive and be too exhausted to be useful.

Dean curls up in the backseat as best as he can, using his bunched-up jacket as a makeshift pillow. The music is on too low for Dean to recognize what kind of station Sam chose—even after years in the car with the guy, it's kind of a mystery to him what music Sam even likes. One thing he shows active resentment for are the kind of power ballads Dean has more or less given up on pretending he doesn't enjoy.

Sam and Cas are talking about something, their voices pitched low. It sounds like it's about gas prices, or maybe false advertising.

Dean kind of wishes Cas were in the back with him. He could sit on Dean's good side, and Dean could doze with his head on Cas' shoulder. Except Dean probably wouldn't have the guts to do that anyway. Would be too scared of the sharp stab of rejection if Cas gently but insistently pushed him away.

Cas chuckles lowly at something Sam has said and Dean forces himself to keep his eyes closed.

Dean and Cas are at a weird point in their relationship where Dean kissed him like a total sap after they watched _Dirty Dancing_ together on Dean's laptop while sitting way too close. Dean was so nervous he almost missed Cas' mouth, and immediately afterwards freaked the fuck out because now he'd done it, he'd _ruined_ it—except Cas took Dean's hands that were twitching with anxiety in both of his and held them still and kissed Dean back with enough force to painfully knock their teeth together. It was _perfect_. It was everything Dean had been too scared to admit he wanted.

And then it was apparently Cas' turn to freak the fuck out.

Cas drew back abruptly and stared at Dean with wide eyes. He looked pained, and Dean realized with a stab that this must have disgusted him. That he didn't want Dean like this. Then Cas let go of Dean's hands and scrambled past him, out the door.

Dean sat there with the end credits still playing and felt caught between guilt and devastation.

For the next 24 hours, Dean didn't leave his room except to go to the bathroom. Sam was off visiting Eileen and for all Dean knew, Cas had left. Since he'd made the decision to live as a human about two months ago, Cas had been living with them, but now Dean had gone and screwed that up for him. It would be understandable if he'd left. It's a wonder he even stayed as long as he did; because really, why would anyone want to be stuck with _Dean_? He's a mess even on a good day.

Dean curled up in bed on top of the covers in his most comfortable sleeping clothes—and a soft pair of his, uh, _other_ underwear—and listened to Led Zeppelin's break-up album via headphones while trying to just forget about everything and rubbing at his eyes to keep them dry, because that's how pathetic he was.

He fell asleep on his side at some point, and woke to someone stroking a hand up and down his upper arm.

Dean blinked his eyes open, disoriented, slipped the headphones off and rolled onto his back, only to see Cas sitting on the edge of his bed. He had lost the suit jacket he'd been wearing and his hair was a complete disaster, as if he'd been running his hands through it for hours. Cas had an intense look of guilt and regret on his face when he confessed to Dean that he was scared, and Dean forgave him instantly because _fuck_ if he wasn't scared as well, and it was okay if Cas didn't want this with him even though it would break Dean's heart.

Except before he could even say anything, Cas gathered Dean into a hug. It was awkward with how Dean was still partly lying down, and the way Cas held him, clumsy and desperate, made tears spring to Dean's eyes.

Cas' voice was so rough it practically reverberated through Dean's bones, “I'm sorry I hurt you, Dean. Could we try this again, just—slower?”

And god, _yes_. Dean was all for taking this slow. He wouldn't want to rush something that important to him.

That was three weeks ago. Taking it slow is great, especially since Dean is still working on the whole, you know, self-acceptance thing. There is always that part of him that is urging him to deny himself what he wants. The part of him that tells him he shouldn't want what he wants, not with another man. The whole thing is all kinds of stupid, really, because Dean would never think other guys being couples is something wrong. But when it comes to himself, his first instinct is to shove those desires as deep down as possible. It's stressful as fuck but it's not a switch he can just flip off.

On top of that, Dean is craving affection and intimacy and closeness more than ever now that he knows he can technically have it. He's trying to hide it, but it's really only a matter of time until Cas finds out how embarrassingly _needy_ and _clingy_ Dean actually is. And that's _bad_ , because Cas has asked for time, and Dean is already giving him space, but what if he scares Cas away with how much he wants Cas' hands on his shoulders, his _hips_ , the small of his back, not to mention— _oh god_ —on his dick? With how much he wants Cas to hold him when they're alone? It would be stupid and selfish of Dean to risk what they've been building because of something as insignificant as Dean's overblown need for physical reassurance.

It also doesn't help how Dean is basically Cas' first real relationship, and everyone knows how much Dean sucks at relationships.

He isn't even sure how he's supposed to introduce Cas from now on; if he should just keep his trap shut, if it would only make everything more complicated.

Privately, in his head, he's thought about how he's got a boyfriend now.

 _Dean_ has a _boyfriend_.

It makes him feel giddy. And also like he's both a middle schooler _and_ a girl. Not that there's anything wrong with being a girl, quite the opposite. Dean has always imagined it as kind of awesome even, because women are _goddesses_ , full stop. It's just that it's bad enough Dean keeps catching himself imagining what's it like being in the woman's position when he watches porn.

So far the problem of how to introduce Cas to other people hasn't come up exactly. It's only been three weeks, and it's not like they know a lot of folks. Dean's starting to think he might not even have to explain anything, given how he can't stop _smiling_ when Cas is close to him now. Can't stop that feeling that is definitely not butterflies in his stomach when Cas looks at him with soft eyes.

Dean must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he knows the car isn't moving and someone's gently shaking his shoulder.

“Dean? We're there.”

Dean blinks his eyes open and rubs a hand over his face with a grunt. He can't help it; being woken up always makes him grumpy because he's always tired. He can feel himself grimace when he shifts into a more upright position, his ribs protesting. And Cas takes his hand off his shoulder.

There's a moment in which they both stare at one another, Dean still slightly bleary and Cas with concern edged into his features. Dean's not big on PDA, and Cas has asked him not to kiss him in front of Claire because he isn't sure if it would freak her out. But it's only them in the car, and Dean leans forward, mouth already tingling in anticipation.

As soon as he figures out what Dean's about to do, Cas leans back and turns his head to the side. Dean freezes and Cas awkwardly clears his throat, “We, uhm. We should go inside.” Then he scrambles out the backseat and is gone.

Dean spends another moment in the back, cursing himself, and then climbs out as well, straightening his clothes and checking if he's got drool on his face and hoping he still looks presentable.

It's easy to smile back when Jody greets him at the door, her cheeks rosy and the turquoise color of her blouse complimenting her eyes. She hugs Dean close—but not very tight, so someone must've spilled the beans about Dean pulling a stupid move—and gets as far as, “Who gave you the shiner?”, when Dean lets go of her and angles his head away and sneezes violently three times in quick succession.

“Jesus, sorry,” he sniffs, “That usually only happens around—”

“Oh crap.”

Dean blinks watery eyes at Jody, confused at her horrified expression. And then, there's a distinct _meow_ from the vicinity of Dean's boots, and a second later something that better not be a fucking cat is rubbing itself against his left leg.

Dean looks down and regrets it instantly.

The cat is small and cream colored. Its face is weirdly round and the ears are folded forward and down towards the front of its head. It's looking up at Dean with big round eyes, and Dean takes a step back, sneezing again, only to find to his dismay that the cat is following him.

“I'm so sorry Dean, I didn't know you were—”

“Noonan, come here, boy!”

Claire's cooing voice interrupts Jody. When Dean looks up, Claire is crouched down in the doorway, the cat making a beeline for her and butting her round head into Claire's outstretched palm.

“Hey birthday girl,” Dean manages, trying to smile while simultaneously glaring at the purring cat.

“Hey old man,” Claire shoots back, smirking.

Dean rolls his eyes and then blinks when they water again.

“Listen, I better go get some antihistamines.”

Jody leans against the doorway and nods. “There's a drugstore on twenty-sixth and on Cliff Avenue.” She rubs at her forehead. “I'm really sorry, I should have said something.”

Dean waves her off and climbs back into the Impala, grumbling to himself about tiny fuzzy monsters named after Caddyshack characters the entire way to the nearest pharmacy.

>

Dean had decided to continue his mission of educating Claire about the great movies of the past and bought her a DVD of _The NeverEnding Story_. Cas had thought back and forth about going to Hot Topic again, until Dean offhandedly suggested a photo album. He hadn't even been sure it was a great idea—most people keep their photos on their phones nowadays, maybe it's just Dean who's sentimental and likes to have physical copies.

Cas had looked excited at the idea though, and spent half-an-hour looking at photo albums in various sizes and colors. Dean started out making suggestions, then figured he was probably being less than helpful.

That's how he ended up browsing through the clothing section and buying an apron.

He'd been contemplating buying one for a while now, but thinking about Sam's teasing had always made him put it off. Now he figured he needed it though, because he was supposed to help with cooking but it was also a birthday party and that meant looking nice and not having stains on his clothing.

But when Dean gets back to Jody's and digs Claire's present out of his bag, he almost leaves the apron in there. Now that's he's actually supposed to wear it, he's nervous about it. It's a reversible apron; while the fabric is plain beige on the outside, on the inside it's a dusky pink.

There wasn't that wide a selection, but he still could have chosen another one. Something plain red, or blue, or white.

Except Dean hadn't wanted to choose another one. He'd wanted this one.

Just in case somebody notices the pink and confronts him about it, Dean's already got a couple of excuses lined up. Like, they were the only ones they had. He hadn't noticed the pink until he was already home. Someone must have accidentally put them in the men's section (Dean hadn't been anywhere _near_ the men's section.)

Dean finally tells himself not to be such a fucking coward, grabs the present and the neatly folded apron, zips his bag closed and shuts the trunk.

The stupid Zyrtec tablet he chewed on the way back will need an hour to go into full effect, and one of the side-effects is that his mouth is awfully dry. He's grateful when Jody pours him some homemade lemonade as he joins her in the kitchen.

“So, a cat, huh?” He asks, leaning his back against the counter and taking big gulps from his glass. It feels amazingly soothing going down, but he knows it won't last. His nose tickles and he rubs a knuckle over his eyes.

“Yeah,” Jody drawls with her back to Dean, pulling a pan out of a cupboard, “Early birthday present. Honestly I wasn't too sure about it, but I've heard having a pet can do wonders for mental health, and Claire loves the little guy.”

Dean put his empty glass down and raises his eyebrows at Jody in concern. She sighs.

“Cas and Claire gone already?” Dean asks, putting the knife and the cooking board Jody hands him on the counter. A book Claire really likes was recently turned into a movie, and Cas bought tickets for Claire and himself. Dean wishes he could have seen Cas giving her his presents; Cas fumbling nervously and Claire rolling her eyes fondly. Stupid fucking cat allergy. Where is that furball of terror anyway?

“Yeah, you just missed them.” Jody grabs a bottle of olive oil, then turns around to Dean. “How's your nose? You looked like you had a bad case of hay fever earlier.”

Dean grimaces, then holds out his hand to accept the onions Jody has brought over from the fridge. “Itches, but as long as that cat keeps its distance I'm not gonna sneeze all over the food, no worries.” He puts the onions down and claps his hands. “So—what we making?”

Jody critically inspects the large, deep pan she'd chosen, then carefully pours oil into it. “Lamb tagine with dates and sweet potatoes. I'm thinking some couscous and peas and carrots on the side. Sound good?”

Dean smiles at her, “Sounds perfect.” He moves the cutting board next to where she's standing at the stove so he's close to the exhaust fan running over it and the onions won't make him bawl his eyes out. He remembers his apron and, after one last moment of hesitancy, unfolds it and puts it on. He fiddles with the straps for a moment, struggling to make a neat knot at the small of his back despite the nervousness that's making his fingers clumsy.

Jody looks over at him when he returns to his place beside the stove, and Dean steels himself for her surprise or maybe amusement. Instead, Jody makes a relieved sound and says, “Oh my god, you're a lifesaver.” She turns the heat down for a moment and quickly walks over to where the dishtowels are hanging. There's an additional hook from which a wine-red colored apron is hanging, and Jody hurriedly puts it on, “Just ruined one of my favorite shirts yesterday because I forgot.”

They work in silence for a few moments, save from Jody remarking how she never manages to make the slices that even when Dean hands her the sliced onions and ginger pieces. Dean tries and fails not to preen.

They're adding the meat in batches when Dean asks, “So, Claire. She get into trouble at school?”

Jody shakes her head, gaze focused on where she's frying the meat until it's lightly colored. “Nah, school is fine. Lately, she's just been—” she reaches over to stir in the spices and the cinnamon sticks, “— _sad_. I think. Tell me when it's been one minute?”

Dean looks on his digital watch. “She talk to you?”

Jody grimaces. “Yes and no,” she replies, at length. “I didn't wanna push her. I mean—”

“Minute's up.”

“Thank you. Hand me that passata? It's not like I'm an expert, and maybe I shouldn't make assumptions. But I think she misses her mother.”

Dean watches his hands carefully cleaning the knife and cutting board in the sink. He stays silent, because he gets it, more than he wishes he would.

Jody covers the pan and turns the heat down. “Sooo, we got one and a half hours of free time now. What do you say, should we whip us up some blueberry pie in the meantime?”

Dean dries his hands and beams at her, his mood instantly lifting.

>

After she's fitted half of the pastry in a 9-inch pie-plate, Jody watches Dean unfold the remaining pastry on the lightly floured surface of the counter and promptly decides they're switching roles and she's his assistant now. Dean chuckles and gently rolls the rolling pin over the pastry to remove the creases. It's been forever since he's gotten to bake a pie.

He's placed the pastry over the filling and is cutting slits in top of the crust to allow steam to escape while it's baking, when he notices how still Jody has become.

Dean looks up, instantly worried. Jody appears lost in her own head, her eyes locked on some fixed point in the middle distance. Dean wipes his hands on a paper towel and ducks his head to try and get Jody's attention. She looks up at him when she notices and then grimaces.

“Sorry, just—thinking too much.”

Dean shakes his head. He knows that look.

“What's wrong?”

Jody exhales audibly and rubs a hand over her forehead, then motions vaguely. “Nothing, it's just... I can't help but think maybe I'm not a good role model for the girls. That maybe they'd need me to be more—” she gestures vaguely again, and then can't seem to continue.

Jody's eyes are shining wetly and Dean feels his chest constrict. He's quick to shake his head again and step closer to her, “No, no. Jody, come on. That ain't true.”

Dean hesitates only a moment, then gathers her close in a hug, careful to keep his fingertips away from her blouse so he won't leave any dirty fingerprints. Jody sighs against his shoulder and hugs him back.

Dean takes a breath and licks his lips. “You're kind, and you're strong. You're always there for Claire and Alex. You're doing an awesome job. Never say you ain't a good role model again, okay, I don't wanna hear it.” He intends to sound at least a little bit threatening, but the effect is probably ruined by how hushed his voice has become with his urge to soothe.

Jody huffs in amusement, pats Dean's side and then withdraws from the hug. She sniffs once and tentatively dabs at what little wetness has gathered under her eyes. “Shit, I didn't smudge anything did I?”

Dean ducks his head to look and then smiles and shakes his head. “You look perfect.”

Jody snorts and playfully shoves at him, “And you're a sweet talker. Come on, this beauty of a pie's still got to bake for half-an-hour.”

Dean is helping Jody clean up and prepare the side dishes when suddenly his nose starts to itch distractedly again, his eyes watering slightly. He looks around himself in confusion, only to find that that damn cat has somehow managed to sneak between his feet, and has been lying there for fuck only knows how long. He makes an irritated noise and lifts one foot in the hope that the thing will get the message that it's not welcome here.

The cat gets up and starts rubbing itself against Dean's leg, purring happily. Dean scowls down at it, but the stubborn furball isn't impressed in the slightest.

Jody looks up from where she's filling couscous into a bowl and laughs.

“I think he likes you.”

Dean grumbles. “Well, I don't like _him_.”

Jody chuckles at Dean's no doubt grumpy expression. She comes over and picks up the furry menace just as Alex enters the kitchen.

“Sorry, I didn't notice he escaped. Hey, Dean!”

Dean wipes icky dishwater off his hands with a dishtowel and smiles at her. The more time goes by, the less Alex looks like the girl Jody saved from a destructive relationship with a nest of vampires. It's all kinds of incredible.

Just as Dean is about to greet her, the doorbell rings.

“Ah, that's gotta be Donna,” Jody says, Alex following her to the front door, and Dean immediately perks up. He's just finished washing his hands clean with soap when Donna rounds the counter.

Donna, who is cradling the damn cat to her chest and cooing at it.

“Dean!” Donna's entire face lights up when she sees him, and before he can get a word in, she's sat the cat down—evil thing of course starts rubbing itself against Dean's legs again immediately—and has engulfed him in a hug.

Dean knows he's in for a sneezing attack, but he also knows he's a pushover, and if Donna wants a hug he's gonna give her a hug.

He gets as far as “Hey, how is—” when Donna finally lets him go after definitely hugging him tighter than his bruised ribs thought she should, and then he barely manages to grab a paper towel before the sneezing starts.

Dean can't really see Donna through his watery vision but she sounds very concerned, “Oh, for jeez. How the heck did ya catch a cold this time of the year?”

“It's—”

“He's allergic to the cat. I'm sorry, Dean, I forget to tell her.”

Jody is back. Dean blinks in her general direction and then rubs the heels of his hands over his eyes, wincing when he remembers too late that he got punched in one recently.

“'S okay, it's not a big deal. Hey, is there cat hair on me?”

Jody shoos the cat back outside—Dean has a feeling it won't last long—while Donna helps him pick the stupid cat hairs off his clothing, which is a blessing because Dean still can't see all that well. Seriously why do these little monsters have to _shed_ on top of everything else?

Donna is just complimenting Jody and Dean on how delicious everything looks and smells when there's the sound of the front door opening and closing, and a moment later Claire and Cas come in. Cas looks a lot more relaxed than he did when they arrived, and something in Dean relaxes as well at the sight.

“Hey, we're back!”

A smile lights up Donna's face and in the next moment she's got Claire engulfed in a hug. Claire looks a little overwhelmed but definitely happy at seeing Donna. And how could she not? Donna's got to be the kindest person Dean's ever met.

“Happy birthday! Oh dear, I swear you're more beautiful every time I see ya!”

As soon as Donna is done showering Claire with attention, she hones in on Cas, who has been hovering awkwardly beside them. Cas has only met Donna twice as far as Dean knows. He gets as far as “Hello—”, and then Donna has already rushed forward to hug him. Dean has to look away to hide his smile at the way Cas hesitantly pats Donna's back.

“It's so good to see you again!”

“Uhm. Yes, it's good to see you as well.”

Claire has wandered out of the kitchen by the time Donna lets Cas go, maybe to open Donna's present in peace or to search for her evil cat beast.

Cas and Dean's eyes meet, and for some really stupid reason Dean feels his cheeks heat. He smiles tentatively at Cas, momentarily forgetting they're not alone. It looks like everything went well with Claire, and seeing Cas happy makes Dean happy.

Cas gulps visibly, looking a little pink around his nose. “Uhm. Hi, Dean.” Cas' voice sounds scratchy, and he appears to immediately regret speaking. He very awkwardly points behind himself, “Right. I, uhm, I'll just—”

Then he turns around, stumbles out of the kitchen and is gone.

Jody and Donna blink at one another, then look at Dean.

Dean, suddenly finding himself the center of attention, instantly becomes flustered.

“What was that all about?”

“Uh—”

He's saved, at the very last second, by the beeping of the timer on the oven.

>

For all that he knows how much Cas means to Dean, Sam was still kind of shocked at the news that they were, in Dean's words, “together” now.

Dean grimaced right after saying that—it sounded stupid and yet scarily exciting—but he didn't know how else to say it. It wasn't like there was a lot to say. Well, there was, but most of it was private.

After Dean had stammered out a “Yeah, that's good, that's—yeah”, in response to Cas' request to try again and take it slow, they'd sat side by side in awkward silence for a long moment. It became obvious very fast that they couldn't keep from looking at one another, and Dean was kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When it did, Cas had sighed and his shoulders had slumped. He'd dragged a hand through his already messy hair and said, “Dean, if you. If you allow me this close and I, and I were to lose you again—Dean, I don't know how I would _bear_ it.”

His voice had wavered at the end, and Dean had swallowed hard, a familiar pain spreading through him. Yeah, he knew exactly what Cas meant.

“Yeah, no, I get it.” Dean's voice had been scratchy from disuse and his earlier sorrow, and the admission made him lower his head and look at where his hands were fidgeting in his lap. They were both taking an immense risk with this step. Dean was scared and Cas was scared.

The mattress had dipped beside him a moment later, and then Cas was there, a hand cupping Dean's cheek. Dean closed his eyes and exhaled raggedly, put one hand over Cas' hand on his face and used the other to tuck at Cas' shirt, silently asking him to come closer. Dean couldn't say it, but he needed to hold Cas, needed to be held in return. Then, Cas' arms were around him, gathering him close, and Dean could feel Cas breathe under his hands. He'd smiled then, because he still felt scared, and uncomfortably vulnerable—and, for the first time in a long time, overwhelmingly happy.

Dean told Sam they were together as soon as Sam was back the next day and they were alone, unwillingly to drag it out and give himself any additional anxiety. Sam had stared at him with a blend of shock and confusion. “Since when are you even into—no, wait, don't answer that, I don't wanna know.”

Sam scrunched his eyes shut and then held up a hand while Dean shifted his weight nervously.

“Okay, I'm starting over. Dean, this is—unexpected, but it's great! It's just, I mean, are you _sure_?”

Sam fixed Dean with a serious look then, worry evident in his expression. A part of Dean wanted to bristle, but he knew were Sam was coming from. Each time Cas had been gone, it had devastated Dean a little bit more.

But, if Dean wanted this to work, he couldn't think that way.

He lifted his head then and looked Sam square in the eyes. “I'm sure.”

>

Dean is adding the sweet potatoes to the lamb while Jody and Donna are talking somewhere to his right. He's so nervous he couldn't even say what they're talking about. Dean waits until there's a brief lull in their conversation, covers the pan again, smoothes his hands down his apron in an attempt to calm himself, and then clears his throat.

He can feel both of their eyes on him, but can't make himself lift his head. He stares at their shoes and fidgets with his hands, “We're uhm, we're together. Cas and me. That's, uh, what that was about.”

Dean chances a look up in the ensuing silence. Jody is staring at him open-mouthed. Dean licks his lips and opens his mouth without even knowing what else to say, but then Donna squeals out an “Oh my _gosh_!” and the next thing Dean knows is she's got him wrapped in another hug. “Oh my gosh, Dean, I'm so _happy_ for ya!” She sounds ecstatic, and Dean's ribs hate him for it, but he lets her hug him, can't help but smile and feel humbled at how excited Donna is for him.

Donna draws back suddenly, taking Dean by the shoulders, “You _are_ happy, right?”

Dean can feel himself blush, _again_ , and he's still smiling like a fool with his head ducked down bashfully. “Yeah, I'm—yeah.”

Donna squeals again, and then Jody is squeezing Dean's fidgeting hands, “Then we're happy for you.” Her voice is so warm, and her eyes are shining with joy when Dean finally finds the courage to look up.

It's all a bit much, and Dean is pretty sure he's _glowing_ , and it's freaking embarrassing. He licks his lips and rubs the back of his neck, turning back to the stove. “Okay, that's, uhm. Hey, where are the dates, pretty sure we can add them now.”

It turns out the potatoes need another ten minutes to cook before they can stir in the dates, which Dean kind of knew, but at least the attention isn't on him anymore.

He's heating up the peas and carrots so everything will be finished at the same time, while Donna’s helping Jody pile all the plates and cutlery they're going to need on the counter. They're chatting about how Donna's days at the precinct have been lately—exhausting, so she's glad to get a breather. Then there's something small and soft rubbing itself against Dean's leg, fucking _again_ , and he glares down at the cat with an annoyed groan.

“Why does he keep coming to _me_?!”

“He likes grumpy old men.” Claire's tone is openly teasing, her voice coming from somewhere behind Dean. “Hey, did you know your apron is pink on the inside?”

Dean cranes his neck around, glaring at Claire who is leaning against one of the cupboards with a smug expression.

“You're... pink on the inside,” Dean counters weakly. Claire, if anything, looks even more smug. Dean turns back and glares at the peas and carrots. Jesus, but teenagers are the _worst_.

Donna, who is putting wine glasses on the counter, makes a tut-tut kind of noise, “Leave the poor man alone. Dean, that apron looks wonderful on ya.”

Dean groans and drags a hand down his face, feeling his eyes water from the proximity of the cat, “Oh my god, _please_ stop.”

He's, at last, saved from further embarrassment, when Jody proclaims that everything's ready and goes to round up everyone to help set the table in the backyard. Dean takes his apron off and uses the opportunity to duck into the bathroom. He blows his nose and thoroughly washes his hands and then cringes when he catches sight of his reflection. His eyes are red-rimmed and his nose looks pink.

The kitchen is empty when he returns, and it looks like everything's been carried outside already. Dean decides to better be safe than sorry and stock up on paper towels in case the devil cat jumps on his head or something. He's just put the roll with the paper towels back on its place beside the stove when someone enters the kitchen, and a moment later strong arms hug him from behind and draw him carefully back against a broad chest.

Cas rests the side of his head against Dean's shoulder and sighs, and Dean goes pliant in his hold, leaning back against him. Cas is radiating heat, his hands so broad and gentle.

Dean has craved this for so long, sharing intimacies like this with someone who knows him.

They stand there for a long minute, and Dean wishes he didn't have to cut the moment short but the others are probably waiting for them. He squeezes Cas' hand where it's resting on his stomach, craning his neck to the side, “You okay?”

Cas only hums in reply. He reluctantly lets Dean go, trailing his hands down his sides, careful on the right where Dean's ribs are still punishing him for all the times he let himself be hugged tightly today or moved too fast.

Cas looks up at him and says, “Dean, I'm sorry about earlier.” When Dean only looks at him in confusion he adds, “In the car. I didn't mean to push you away like that. I was nervous, but that doesn't excuse how cowardly I acted.”

Dean shakes his head, lets his hand trail down Cas' arm, their fingers brushing together. “Cas, you don't got to—I get being nervous, okay? Half the time I'm scared outta my mind by this,” he adds with a wobbly little smile, not quite able to meet Cas' eyes.

The corner of Cas' mouth twitches, and he sounds fond when he says, “Dean, you've always been a lot braver than me.”

Dean lifts his head and frowns at him then, because “C'mon, Cas, that's not—”. He doesn't get to finish because Cas puts a hand on the back of his neck and draws him forward to gently press their mouths together.

Dean's pretty sure Cas is at least partly doing this to shut him up and win their not-argument, but Dean enjoys being kissed too much to draw back and complain about it. He lets his eyelids flutter shut and willingly opens his mouth, unable to suppress a moan at the wet softness he's met with. Cas' other hand has slipped down to the small of Dean's back, and Cas' stubble is rough under Dean's fingertips, and the combination is already making heat pool in Dean's gut.

Dean instantly misses the connection when he puts a hand on Cas' chest and withdraws from the kiss. He also sounds embarrassingly breathless when he forces out, “We gotta stop, or I ain't making it through dinner.”

Cas just stares at him as if he didn't even hear Dean speak, licks his lips, his pupils blown wide. Another beat, and then he blinks, takes a step back. There's still heat in his gaze though when he locks eyes with Dean and says, his voice as decisive as it's unfairly rough, “We're getting a separate motel room tonight.”

Dean can only swallow and nod numbly, because _jesus_ , they're really doing this. Before he can even get his bearings, Cas puts his hand back onto the small of his back and steers him towards the backyard, Dean tripping over his feet the entire way.

>

Jody's backyard is slightly overgrown and not very big, but it's green and quiet and in a way just as homely as the rest of her home is. The long garden table Jody had borrowed from one of her neighbors looks like it's just about to collapse under the weight of all the food and the plates and the half dozen big candles that aren't lit yet since it's still light outside. There's a sun lounger a little to the left, and Dean has a feeling that's where his useless giant of a little brother lazed around the entire evening.

Everyone is currently roaring with laughter at some story Donna is telling that appears to revolve around a raccoon, a suspicious looking pizza box, and one thoroughly embarrassed cop. Dean's gonna have to ask her about that later, but for now he's glad that everyone's too distracted to notice Cas' hand on Dean's back, or the way Dean can't quite suppress a wince when he sits down and his ribs twinge painfully.

Cas sits down next to Claire and Dean takes the seat beside him, the last on that side of the table, which puts him directly across from Donna.

They're not allowed to sing—Claire had apparently forbidden it upon pain of death, and Dean thinks that's probably for the better. He's not even sure he would have known the lyrics.

Jody says a brief toast instead, about how happy they all are she's with them and that they wish her a happy next year of her life, and Claire rolls her eyes at it, but there's a soft smile on her lips that she can't quite hide. Cas looks like he's about to melt, and Dean almost spills his drink when the damn cat suddenly jumps into his lap, and then utter chaos breaks out when everyone tries to get at the food at once.

It's loud and chaotic and warm, and Dean is the exact opposite of an expert in birthday parties, but he thinks this is a pretty good one. Not even the little monster that's lying curled up on Claire's lap and is making Dean's nose itch can chip away at the relief he feels that everything turned out so great. Everyone lathers Jody and Dean with compliments about the food, Jody being a lot more capable at waving them off. Dean mostly solves it by ducking his head and stuffing his face. Which isn't difficult, because _damn_ , he hadn't even realized how hungry he'd been.

Claire gets up some time later to feed the devil cat, and Dean realizes he still hasn't given her his present.

She's in the kitchen, crouched down and stroking a hand over the cat's back while it goes to town on its food like a hungry lion. Dean grabs the present from the shelf he'd put his folded up apron on and then awkwardly clears his throat. “Hey, uh, didn't get to give you this earlier.”

Claire rips off the light blue wrapping paper Dean had chosen and then chuckles and shakes her head at him when she sees what's inside. “You know I'm not a kid, right?”

Dean splutters with righteous indignation. “It's not a kids' movie. It's a classic!”

Claire smirks and punches him in the arm. “I was just ribbing you, old man.”

Dean rubs his arm and glowers. Claire's good humor wins him over faster than he'd like to admit though, and he can't help but grin at the mischievous glint in her eyes. “How was the movie?” he asks before she can gloat some more about her victory.

Claire shrugs. “It was trash.”

Dean raises his eyebrows at her. “Good trash or bad trash?”

Claire grimaces. “Bad. But it didn't matter. It wasn't really about the movie anyway.”

She looks serious now, and Dean nods, because he thinks he gets it.

“Don't tell him,” Claire adds, “He'd only—”

“Blame himself,” Dean finishes for her, “I won't, no worries.”

Claire is silent for a moment, and then suddenly says, “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean looks up from where he'd been glaring at the cat for threatening to make his nose run again, and only manages a confused “Huh?”

Claire is shifting her weight nervously, and she sounds nothing but earnest when she says, “For looking after him, and after yourself.”

“Oh. That's...” There's a sudden lump in Dean's throat and he doesn't even know why, and he also doesn't know what the fuck to say.

That mischievous glint is back in Claire's eyes when she adds, “You know, he looks happy when he talks about you.”

And there goes Dean's dignity. He's pretty sure it wasn't that warm in the kitchen when he came in a moment ago, and he ducks his head and tries to scowl, but it's all for nothing. Claire assumes a wide-eyed look and rests her chin on her hand as if fascinated.

“Wow, you're pink on the _outside_ as well.”

Dean groans and drags his hands down his face and stomps past her.

“Okay, that's it, where is the fucking pie? I deserve some pie after this!”

>

Dean wants to stay and help with clean-up, but Jody insists that they're guests and they've done enough and any more exposure to the cat is not going to do Dean any favors.

It's hard to leave. It's still not as often as Dean would like that they all get to hang out and have fun and just be people together.

Cas hugs Claire twice, and then slumps into the shotgun seat beside Dean. But he gives Dean a tired smile when Dean shoots a look at him, trying to gauge if he's okay to go.

Dean decided on a nicer motel than their usual fare because fuck it, today is a day of indulgence and Dean can admit he prefers it when things are clean and soft. Sam only looks back and forth between them briefly when Dean stops the car in the parking lot of the Valley Inn and announces, as off-hand as he can make it, that he's gonna get the King Suite for himself and Cas. Sam replies with a very drawn out “Oookay,” and then mumbles something about how he's gonna make sure to get a room that's very _very_ far away from theirs. Dean is glad it's dark out, because no one can see him blush and he's got an excuse for dropping his keys twice.

The carpet in the King Suite is impressively ugly, but the room is spacious and the bedding looks clean and soft and there are _four_ very big pillows on the very big bed.

The _one_ very big bed.

They've never slept in the same bed so far. The one time Dean fell asleep in Cas' bed, Cas had left to sleep in Dean's, leaving Dean to wake up very confused, curled around a pillow that wasn't his, his back complaining about the lack of softness.

Cas is about to go further into the room when Dean holds him back. “Listen, I'm going to shower, and then you're going to shower, and we're gonna put our clothes as far as possible from that bed. I don't want a single devil cat hair on it.”

Cas doesn't seem put out by Dean's grumbling and posturing in the least. He just nods, and then fumbles with the strap of the overnight bag on his shoulder, “We could, uhm… Shower together.”

Dean stares at him, his mouth suddenly dry, his heart picking up speed. “I'm—not sure there's enough space. I'll just go check and, yeah.” He drops his bag and almost stumbles over it before making a beeline for the bathroom.

Dean drags his hands down his face as soon as he's inside, because _Jesus Christ_ , what is wrong with him?! When he thinks he's got himself under control again, he drops his hands. Except then his eyes fall on the shower stall.

It's not that big, but they could make it work. If they wanted.

There are footsteps behind him, and then there's a hand on his back.

“Dean?”

Dean swallows. “There is enough space.”

Cas comes around to look at Dean, the hand he had on Dean's back moving to his shoulder.

“We don't have to do anything tonight you don't want to do, Dean. It's okay to say no.”

He sounds so earnest about it, and Dean blinks at him, speechless, because shouldn't he be the one saying that?

Cas must read the confusion on his face correctly, because he adds, “You're quite nervous.”

Dean grimaces at that, because yeah, okay, true.

Except, “I thought you were—weren't ready.”

Cas looks chagrined at that. His thumb is rubbing tiny comforting circles into Dean's shoulder, perhaps unconsciously. “It's not—I'm not scared of physical intimacy. But I'm not used to wanting it. And ever since you kissed me that night, I've—I've _wanted_.”

Dean swallows and shifts his weight, the heat in Cas' eyes making his fingertips tingle.

“O-okay.”

Cas smiles at him, the heat in his gaze shifting into something softer, fonder.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, his voice a low, comforting rumble.

Dean huffs out a laugh, his heart in his throat, caught between feeling like laughing and crying. God, but he is a mess. But Cas has never judged him for that.

“Yeah, that's a yes,” he says. He can't stop smiling, and there's gotta be devil cat hair somewhere near him because his eyes feel wet.

Cas mirrors his smile, and then he draws Dean forward into a kiss that's so gentle it makes Dean's chest hurt in the best possible way.

>

They undress one another slowly.

Dean's hands are shaking, but Cas' hands are shaking as well, and so it's okay.

Cas slips the flannel off Dean's shoulders, helps him out of his t-shirt. His fingers skimming over Dean's belt are enough to make Dean's dick start to fatten up in his underwear. Cas sighs against Dean's mouth when Dean finally manages to undo the button on Cas' dress pants.

Dean has to step back and avert his eyes when they shimmy out of their pants and pull off their socks. He can't stop thinking about how he's bared to Cas now in a way he's never been before, all his insecurities and imperfections on stark display. His soft middle, the ugly bruising along his ribs. His freckles that are always out of control in the summer. His scars.

He gets into the shower stall without checking if Cas is following, sets the water to nice and hot. He hears Cas crowding in behind him, and there'd be enough space for him to turn around, but he can't get himself to do it. The water is pounding onto his shoulders and his heart is in his throat again.

He doesn't notice how tense he is until Cas puts his hands on his upper arms.

“Dean? Would you look at me?”

Dean feels helpless to disobey, allows himself to be turned around.

Cas' hair is curling slightly in the damp air. His eyes draw Dean in and he can't look away.

“Let me,” Cas mumbles, and lightly nudges Dean under the spray, then reaches past him for the soap.

Dean closes his eyes, his mouth falling open around a low moan when Cas starts rubbing the soap onto his chest and shoulders, even taking the time to clean his hands. His thumbs rub circles into Dean's palms in a way that both calms him and makes heat flash through him.

Dean's almost completely hard by now, his dick pulsing in time with his erratic heartbeat. Cas' hands are on his stomach, slowly trailing lower. He's giving Dean plenty of time to back out, but Dean doesn't stop him.

At the first touch of Cas' soaped up fingers to Dean's dick, his knees almost buckle and he has to support himself with one hand braced against the shower wall, an embarrassing whine working its way up his throat. Even over the pounding of the water, he can hear the hitch in Cas' breathing. He only strokes Dean twice, his touch so slow and light Dean would call it deliberately teasing if it weren't for the reverence evident beneath it.

There's the noise of the soap bottle opening and closing, and then Cas' broad hands trail down Dean's backside. Dean breathes in sharply when Cas' fingers skim over his crack, and his knees are quivering as Cas works his way down his bowed thighs, all the way down to his feet. Something about the way Cas touches him makes Dean ache inside. It's like he _adores_ Dean.

Cas washes his hair last. The soothing, massaging motions would be enough to make Dean sleepy if it weren't for how his skin is tingling with arousal all over, his dick aching so much Dean has to fight the urge to reach down and squeeze it. Something holds him back from touching himself, even though denying himself only serves to make him so aroused he feels like he can barely get enough air into his lungs.

It's embarrassing how badly his hands shake with arousal and nerves alike when he reverses their positions. Cas regards him with nothing but trust though, and doesn't even laugh when Dean drops the soap bottle twice.

Cas' eyelids flutter but his eyes stay open and fixed on Dean's face when Dean starts massaging soap into his muscled shoulders. Dean can't keep himself from pressing light kisses into Cas' slightly slack mouth, uncertain if it's to reassure Cas or to reassure himself. Cas shudders when Dean's hands brush over his nipples, trailing down his thick waist.

Dean finally looks down, only to see that Cas is just as hard as he is. Dean licks his wet lips. His hands are twitching, hesitant, and then he decides to be brave.

Cas groans the moment Dean's fingers close around his dick, a noise that Dean instantly echoes. Cas is hard and heavy and hot in his grip, and his heavy damp breaths are hitting the side of Dean's face. Dean's got another man's _dick_ in his hand, and it turns him on so much he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Cas' hips jerk, and then he puts one broad hand on Dean's chest. For one excruciating moment Dean thinks he's about to be pushed away, that he did something wrong. But then Cas takes a ragged breath and fixes Dean with a heated look. “Bed,” he growls, his tone commanding, impatient. “ _Now_.”

Dean gulps and nods shakily.

Cas rinses himself off hurriedly, and they barely manage to towel one another dry, hands clumsy and urgent. The next thing Dean knows, Cas is tugging the blankets aside and coaxing Dean to lie down on his back on the bed. He can't quite manage to bite back a wince when his injured side is jostled. Cas looks down at him with worry in his eyes, but Dean doesn't want him to worry now. He buries the fingers of one hand in Cas' hair and urges him down, presses his mouth against his, runs his other hand down Cas' strong back. He needs him closer, needs that heat, that comforting weight on top of him.

Dean spreads his legs apart for Cas to nestle between them, and then his mouth falls open around a moan when the heads of their dicks brush against one another, all that hardness and wet heat pressed next to where Dean is just as aching and desperate. Dean breaks away from their open-mouthed kiss to look between their bodies. The sight of their dicks rutting against one another, pre-release leaking from both of them and smearing on Dean's belly is so erotic Dean can't help but groan brokenly and paw at Cas' back. The friction is starting to border on painful though, and he manages to gasp out, “ _Lube_ —think there's lube in my bag.”

Cas has been panting against his cheek but now moves his head to look at Dean, his pupils blown and his hair a mess. “Where?” he growls out, his voice so wrecked it makes Dean's dick jump and leak between them.

“Ugh—side pocket.”

Cas clumsily lifts himself off Dean, his knees visibly wobbling when he stands. Dean stares at him unashamedly as he walks over and bends down to pick up Dean's bag. The urge to touch himself and relieve at least some of the pressure is so strong Dean has to fist the covers in both hands to keep himself from doing it. His ribs are twinging with how hard he's breathing but the slight pain barely even registers.

Then Cas is back, and Dean accepts the little plastic tube with shaky fingers. Cas presses a clumsy kiss into the corner of Dean's jaw. He breathes in sharply, his fingers tightening in Dean's hair when Dean fits a hand around the two of them, strokes them slowly.

“Good?” Dean asks, panting.

“Mmmmmm _yes_ ,” Cas hums. Dean squeezes on the next upstroke and Cas groans, “ _Dean_ —”, both his hands slipping under Dean's head, his weight resting on his arms either side of Dean. Dean can only whine in reply. He feels hot all over, his heart pounding away, so turned on his hands and feet feel almost numb with it. The pressure is building up fast, sparks of intense pleasure striking up his spine. He's writhing, his free hand digging into Cas' back while Cas breathes harshly against Dean's mouth, brushing against his lips and making them tingle.

Even through the haze of arousal, Dean knows he's close, won't be able to hold it much longer. But he's aching and desperate with how much he wants Cas hands down there again. Maybe the cloud of desire is what's making him brave, or maybe it's the way Cas is cradling his head so reverently, but he manages to tug one of Cas' hands loose and guide it down between his legs.

Cas lifts himself off Dean slightly more, still careful to stay away from Dean's bruised side.

“Dean?” he asks, sounding wrecked and uncertain. Dean breathes in deeply and swallows, licking his lips.

“Just— _ah_!” Cas' fingers brush over his dick, his thumb catching at the slit. But Dean wants his touch somewhere else. He can't ask for it, his mouth dry and his limbs trembling faintly with how much he _wants_.

He spreads his legs wider and guides Cas' hand down further, past his tightly drawn up balls. He rubs Cas' fingers into the spot right behind them until they're pressing into Dean's prostate from the outside and pleasure shoots up his spine, making him moan brokenly.

“Auuooh, _please_ , Cas—”

Cas is relentless then, nudges Dean's hand away and rubs and presses until the waves of pleasure crest and break inside Dean, his dick pulsing and spilling between them. Cas stares into Dean's eyes the entire time, his other hand rubbing circles into Dean's hip and holding onto him tightly.

Dean's eyes flutter shut with his climax, the aftershocks making him feel like he's floating. He reaches blindly for Cas, and Cas is there, pressing a kiss against Dean's slack mouth and cradling his head in one hand. He's rocking against Dean, breathing harshly into his ear. Dean reaches a hand down, curls it around Cas' hand on his dick and squeezes. Cas gasps, his fingers tightening in Dean's hair, and spends himself hot and wet on Dean's stomach. He rests his forehead on Dean's shoulder and shudders, and Dean smoothes his hand soothingly up and down his back.

When their breathing has slowed down, Dean starts to squirm.

“Ugh, could you get me—get me a towel?”

Cas lifts his head and searches Dean's eyes. His lips are shining wetly and his cheeks are glowing.

“Are you alright, was this—okay?”

Dean huffs and strokes a hand down Cas' arm, hums into the light kiss Cas presses against his mouth. “Mmhhhm. More than okay. I just _hate_ feeling dirty.”

Cas chuckles at the grumpy expression he must be making as he looks down at the mess on his stomach. He gets up and wobbles over to the bathroom, comes back with a slightly damp towel. He cocks his head to the side when he sits back down and regards Dean for a moment. “You did come a lot,” he remarks, before proceeding to wipe the towel gently over Dean's belly and in-between his thighs.

Dean splutters at the smug tone of Cas' voice. “You're just as bad as Claire when she thinks she's won,” he complains. Cas only chuckles at his antics, his eyes shining with amusement.

Dean draws him close as soon as Cas lets the towel drop onto the carpet, shivering with oversensitivity and the need for closeness. Cas drapes the soft covers over them and Dean lies down on his good side, tucks his head under Cas' chin to hide his face against Cas' chest. He takes Cas' arm and nudges it over his shoulder until Cas gets the message and holds Dean close.

“You're clingy after an orgasm,” Cas remarks, his voice rough and holding an edge of surprise, but no judgment.

Dean grumbles something deliberately unintelligible. The bedside lamps are still on, casting the room in subdued warm light, but with his eyes closed and nestled close to Cas, it might be dark enough for him to fall asleep.

Cas huffs out a breath of laughter and then sighs. His arm tightens around Dean and he nuzzles the side of his face into Dean's hair.

“I love you, Dean.”

Dean's heart skips a beat and his eyes burn. He wants to grumble about Cas being a sap, but maybe he's just as bad. Or maybe he's even worse, because what is making him burrow even closer, what has him press a kiss on Cas' chest, right over the calming beat of his heart, is definitely love.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A recipe for the lamb tangerine Dean and Jody cook together can be found [here](http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/8161/lamb-tagine-with-dates-and-sweet-potatoes). I got so hungry while writing, let me tell you.
> 
> The blueberry pie recipe is [this one](http://www.food.com/recipe/blueberry-pie-24521) . Supposedly it's the recipe to use it you want your pie bursting with whole berries and not "jam-like". 
> 
> The Valley Inn's King Suite can be checked out [here](http://valleyinnsiouxfalls.com/king-suite-guest-room.html) . Sorry I insulted the carpet Valley Inn peeps. 
> 
> The cat Claire got from Jody is a [Scottish fold ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scottish_Fold) :)


End file.
